“on a steep, intimidating mountain in the Heart of the Rockies”

by bert on June 16, 2011

Lets let Phil take us on a mental adventure to the Heart of the Rockies:

Hart and Soul

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” Cassius Clay coined that phrase and showed the world exactly what he meant by it back in 1963 when he took the heavyweight world boxing title from a stunned and KO’d Sonny “the bear” Liston. Forty-eight years later on a steep, intimidating mountain in the Heart of the Rockies, those words came to me in a blue-sky, sunny world blanketed with fresh fallen, high-altitude snow that cascaded over my knees, as I thundered through the summit’s main chute. My speed was more akin to that of a darting swallow than a stinging bee as I sank into the depths of the frosty powder. Billows of it sprayed up and over my chest into goggled eyes. I had the feeling of the butterfly though, as I floated turns diving through every contour of the mountain’s death defying pitch. Normal thought process was left behind on the brink of the ridged peak. Skis were no longer objects attached to boots, but were an extension of my self and who I was at this moment in time and space; small man on big, steep mountain, plunging through the couloirs, into the vast bowl; threading a path between timbers and forest meadows. I was in that place spoken of as being “one with the snow,” connected to the Ananda, the joy that transports the mortal into the world of the sublime. At the bottom on a flat place near a grove of pines I took time to catch a breath, rest and gaze up to the tracks which marked my solitary passage in the wild terrain. Eyes followed a serpent’s trail etched in the white face of the towering massive and at last came to rest upon the skis that had carried me there and back. Objects manufactured from wood, plastic and metal rested quietly beneath my feet. Were they horses that had proved their prowess, I would surely feed them green hay, sweet alfalfa, hearty oats and clear cold water, but steeds they are not. They are my Hart Outback’s, cherished skis, reliable and solid; allowing me the freedom to ski intuitively, confidently, spontaneously, affording the luxury to improvise at will without ever a thought needed as to how they would perform in life and death terrain. As true as any trusted friend the very least I could do was to honor them with this small homage.

The Hart Outback 188cms 132-105-123 American made for All Americans

Phil Gallagher is always livin’ the dream . . . in the heart of the Rockies or a beach in Hawaii, we can always count on him to deliver.

Phil Gallagher

Because I do live in the Heart of the Rockies, 15 minutes from the Continental Divide, I can really appreciate a story like this and a pair of skis I can trust. Here in Central Colorado, my home ski area is Monarch Mountain but we’re just a hop, skip and a jump from Crested Butte – which delivers plenty of shit-your-pants terrain and deep snow. Not only that, Telluride is an early morning drive to get to the most spectacular landscapes and true balls out rippin’ on more super sick vertical. We got the goods . . . here in the Heart of the Rockies!